But the net result was the same as the earlier attempts had been. They moved the asteroid by inches - not nearly enough to save Stree Prime.
It was hopeless.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Stree Prime
Corvette Armidale
The crew of the Armidale had gathered on the bridge, watching the desperate attempts of the Stree to save their planet - and watching them fail. It was too much for Bonnie.
“We have to do something!” she called. “We can’t just sit here and watch this happen!”
Luda looked bitterly at Bonnie.
“Why not? The Stree killed Earth. And five other cultures. Even now, they’re destroying our homeland at Stalingrad. I’m thrilled to sit here and watch them die!”
“It’s wrong, Luda! We can’t trade evil for evil! That’s not what a truly intelligent species does! We have to think of something!”
“There’s nothing we can do, Bonnie,” mused Jim. “The Stree have tried everything. They can’t deflect them with missiles. They’ve tried the kamikaze approach. There’s just no way to push them aside.”
“Actually, there might be,” interjected Stewart.
“What?” exclaimed the group. “How?”
Stewart looked solemn.
“Stree ships can only reach 25% of light speed inside a solar system. That’s why Rauti chose 30% of light speed to push his asteroids. He knows they can’t catch them.”
Jim began to get it.
“But the Armidale has Goblin drives. It can reach 50% of light speed inside a system.”
“Yes,” nodded Stewart. “In this solar system, there is only one ship that can catch up to one of those impactors. This one - the Armidale. But - the laws of physics are working against us. We could only potentially catch the last impactor. It’s too late for the first two. We’ll never be able to catch them before they hit the planet.”
“But we could catch up to the last one?” asked Bonnie. “And that might save several thousands on the planet, right?”
“Yes. If we start right now, and boost like hell,” Stewart answered.
“But we run the risk of smashing the Armidale,” Rachel said.
“That too,” agreed Stewart. “There’s a good chance we’ll smash up our ship.”
There was a short silence as everyone around the table considered the options. Finally Stewart broke the silence, looking at Bonnie.
“Bonnie. Even if the EDF doesn’t exist anymore, you’re the senior EDF officer. You call it.”
Bonnie gazed around the bridge at the others. “For something like this, I won’t make the decision alone. I need a vote.”
Luda immediately spoke up. “No way. I won’t lift a finger to help these murderous bastards.”
Jim glanced at Luda, then back at Bonnie. “We have to try,” he said. “I hate to go against you, Luda. But we’re either a moral species, or we’re not. There’s no half-way.”
Commander Brady raised a hand. “As much as I hate to say it, I have to agree with Jim.”
Ollie, next, spoke simply. “We have to try.”
Liwa shook her head in negation. Bonnie looked at Lieutenant Hodges, the only other Human survivor of Armidale’s original crew. Hodges shook his head.
“No, milady, with respect,” he spoke. “They attacked Earth with the intention of destroying it. I vote no.”
And beside him, Rachel also shook her head.
“They killed my Dan. I will never help them.”
Bonnie looked over at Stewart. “Looks like you’re the deciding vote, Captain Stewart. And that’s fitting since this is your ship. What’ll it be?”
Stewart made a face, grimacing as if in pain. “We’ll try it. But say a prayer for my poor ship, please. I’m not sure she’s going to survive.”
And with that, Stewart turned and focused his attention on his bridge.
“We’re short-handed, folks. We’ll need some help here. Rachel, please take Tactical. Jim, please take Comms,” called Stewart.
Nodding, Rachel moved to the Tactical console as Jim moved to the Comm console. Bonnie and Ollie remained in their jump seats at the back of the bridge. Behind them, the remaining team of Luda and Liwa stood silently beside the jump seats as Captain Stewart issued orders.
“You’re sure there’s no way to catch the first or second one?” asked Bonnie.
Stewart shook his head. “I’m sure,” he replied. “We’ll be damn lucky to catch up to the third one.”
Settling into his Captain’s console, Stewart addressed Jim.
“Jim, since you’re in Cotrapi’s body, you’ll need to contact the Resolute. Inform them we’re going to make one last ditch attempt to divert the asteroids. Commander Brady, set a course to intercept the last one and boost hard.”
“Aye, Skipper,” answered Jim and Brady simultaneously.
An uncontrollable smile crossed Rachel’s face as she sat at the Tactical Officer console. Regardless of circumstances, even in this strange Stree body, it felt good to be in the seat of a warship once more. At the Comms console, Jim made a broadcast to the battlecruiser.
“Cotrapi to Resolute. We’re going to make one last-ditch attempt to divert the third asteroid. We can’t do anything about the first two, but we’ll try for the last one.”
Without waiting for a response, the Armidale swung away from the battlecruiser, striking out on a vector toward the last of the three asteroids. They would first have to accelerate out-system like a bat out of hell, then decelerate, turn, and accelerate back toward Stree Prime for one final, desperate attempt to catch the last of the three impactors and deflect it from the planet. It would take everything the little corvette had to perform the maneuver and catch up to the target.
Jim could only imagine what was going through the minds of Rita and Tika on the battlecruiser. Would Rita attempt to override their decision? Would she call them off and order them to return to their course?
Accelerating at 500g, the Armidale headed toward its destiny.
Phoenix System
Landing City
At 0125 Mac saw the first lights of Landing City through the jungle. He sank to a knee and waved his team down.
“Wait one,” he whispered back down the line. Then, tapping Olivia on the shoulder, he waved her forward with himself. Quietly, moving as slowly and carefully as possible, the two of them inched forward until they were able to see through the trees.
In front of him, he could see the colony. He had come in slightly farther to the north than he wanted - he was about two hundred yards north of the old tent city. That put him about six hundred yards north of the jail. He surveyed the area, looking for guards, lights, anything that would tell him the layout of the place.
Pointing to a dark spot a few hundred yards southeast of them, he whispered into Olivia’s ear.
“See that dark spot? There’s a little gully there. When they built the tent city, they couldn’t put tents there. We’ll slide into that gully and move up as close to the tents as possible. That’s where we’ll wait.”
Olivia nodded. They moved quietly back to their team and whispered the plan to the rest of them. Then the entire team faded back into the jungle for a quarter mile, turned to the south, and headed for the new entry point opposite the gully.
By 0145 they had made their position change and were at the edge of the jungle, directly opposite the gully. Crawling on their bellies, they moved out of the jungle and into the shallow ditch. There was water in the bottom of it. They ignored it and carefully, avoiding any splashing, made their way closer to the colony, until they were only fifty yards from the edge of the old tent city. There they bellied up to the edge of the ravine, heads just under the top edge, and waited.
Mac glanced at his watch. It was 0158 hours. Battalion East was scheduled to assault at 0215, followed by Battalion West at 0230.
Phoenix System
Turgenev Headquarters
Turgenev almost laughed out loud. He managed to suppress it, t
hough. He didn’t want his officers to think he was losing his mind.
But…it was funny. This bitch Tatiana thought she could outsmart him. The smile on his face got even wider as he thought about it.
The classic pincer move. Sending in a diversionary force from the East, then the main force sneaks in from the West. And she thought that would fool me.
As if.
Turgenev gazed around in the darkness. He had set up his troops in three compact groups. To the far north, in the forest just beyond the boundary of Central Park, his Northern Force lay well hidden. And far to the south, on the very periphery of Landing, lay the other half of his militia - his Southern Force.
In the center of Central Park a smaller force waited, the bait for his trap, which he called Center Force on his maps.
When Misha’s Battalion East assaulted into Landing, they would be drawn directly toward Center Force. The Center Force would hold them, occupy them, make a terrific noise of battle. That would suck them in, ensure they committed to attacking into the center of the camp.
And then Tatiana Powell would show up. Her Battalion West would attack, their intent to catch his militia in a crossfire.
And someone would be caught in a crossfire. But it wouldn’t be Turgenev. As soon as Tatiana Powell had committed her Battalion West to a fight against Center Force, his Southern Force would attack her flank. Simultaneously, his Northern Force would attack Misha’s troops from the north.
Both of Powell’s battalions would be caught between his more powerful formations. He would roll them up like a carpet.
The insanity of that bitch. I spent ten years as an officer in the Russian army. And she thinks she can out-fox me?
What a joke.
“Five minutes, General,” called his aide. Turgenev grunted an assent.
“Pass the word. Northern and Southern Forces to remain absolutely quiet, absolutely still until they get the word to attack. No mistakes.”
“Yes, sir,” said his Chief of Staff.
Turgenev waited patiently, watching the minutes tick down on his watch. When his watch reached 0215, he stood up. In the far distance, well to the east of Central Park, he heard the first firing begin, sporadically at first, then increasing in volume.
He smiled.
Here they come. I’ll let them waltz into the camp with little resistance. They’ll think they’ve got it made. They’ll report to Tatiana on the radio that they’ve caught us completely by surprise. When they come up against Center Force, we’ll slow them down, hold them there.
Everything will be exactly as she expects. She’ll come rushing in with her Battalion West, and that…
…that will be the beginning of the end for Tatiana Powell.
Stree Prime
Corvette Armidale
In the jump seats behind Captain Stewart, Ollie leaned over to Bonnie and whispered:
“Shouldn’t we overboost to make sure we can intercept it in time?”
Glancing at a repeater console in front of her, Bonnie shook her head. “Another 8g would only make a difference of twelve minutes in the intercept time. That’s not enough to make the discomfort worth it.”
“Oh,” Ollie said, understanding.
Bonnie smiled. “C’mon, Ollie. Us warship types have to have some special skills over you infantry types! Otherwise, there’s no point to us!”
Ollie managed a tight smile. Bonnie could see he was stressed. She thought she knew why. She spoke quietly.
“Ollie. Don’t try to fight it. You know as well as I do that you’re falling in love with Rachel.”
Ollie bowed his head, looking down at the deck. His head moved slightly, an acknowledgment of Bonnie’s statement.
“I know. I guess I just don’t want to accept it.”
Bonnie reached out a hand and put it on Ollie’s shoulder.
“You’re not betraying Helen, Ollie. She’d be the first person to tell you to move on - to live your life. She’d be thrilled and happy about it.”
Although it was hard to tell, Bonnie thought she could detect a tear in Ollie’s eye. He tried to hide his face, bowing his head deeper toward the deck and raising one hand to cover his eyes.
“You great big grunt,” Bonnie whispered, tears forming in her own eyes. “I know you really loved Helen. But now it’s time to really love Rachel. She needs you, and you need her.”
With a huge sigh, Ollie lifted his head and wiped his eyes. He smiled at Bonnie and gave another nod.
“I know, Bonnie. I know.”
Captain Stewart’s voice rumbled from in front of them.
“XO, what’s the flight profile?”
Bonnie looked up as Brady turned at his console to answer Stewart.
“Max standard accel for 4.9 hours, turnover and max standard decel for 4.9 hours, then max standard accel back toward Stree Prime for 5.5 hours to catch up to the last impactor. Total time to intercept 15.3 hours.”
“Where will we make intercept?”
Brady looked grim. “One-half AU. Seventy-five million klicks from Stree Prime.”
“Is that enough distance to deflect its path?”
“Barely, sir. If we’re lucky. We’ll only have fourteen minutes to try. Less whatever time you want to get clear of the impact zone.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere near that planet after the first two impactors have already hit it. It’ll be a mess. How long to get clear of the planet at that velocity?”
“I’d want at least six minutes. That should put us…let’s see…300 k-klicks clear.”
“Alright, that gives us eight minutes to try and deflect the impactor. Then we get the hell out of Dodge. Plan accordingly.”
“Aye, sir. Eight minutes to deflect the impactor, then get clear.”
Stewart turned to look at the group behind him. He was still streaked with grime and dust from his days in the Stree dungeon. The lines on his face were cut deep from the strain, and especially the last few hours.
“Folks, you heard Brady. I have to tell you; this is a desperate attempt that is probably doomed to failure. But I’ve made the decision we’re going to try. Anyone who wants to leave now can take our shuttle and head for the Resolute. There’s still time to make a rendezvous with them if you hurry.”
Bonnie was the first to respond.
“Not me. I’ll see it through.”
Beside her, Ollie spoke in agreement. “Me as well.”
Stewart looked at the two Goblins standing beside them.
“Luda, how about you two? Last chance…”
Luda shook his head.
“No, Captain. I’ve come this far. I’ll see it through.”
Liwa stood fast, in silent agreement with Luda.
“Then you might as well go to your cabins and rest,” Stewart said. “I’ll call you when the first impactor is thirty minutes out from the planet.”
Stewart smiled - a grimace more than a smile - and turned back to his work.
Phoenix System
Battalion East
On the east side of Landing, Major Jones reported to Misha, out of breath from running.
“We’ve begun the assault, Colonel. Resistance is light. We’re moving forward at a good pace. We’ll be fully engaged at the edge of Central Park on schedule at 0230 when General Powell assaults from the west. Everything is looking good.”
Sourly, Misha looked at Major Jones. “Major, in war, everything is never looking good. If you think it is, you don’t fully understand the situation.”
Uncertainly, Jones nodded.
“I assure you, we did not catch them by surprise. If it looks that way, then Turgenev has some ploy going on. We need to think about what that would be.”
Jones gulped and nodded again.
“So think about it, Major. Get your scouts out farther. Work them harder. Find out what that rat-bastard is up to.”
“Aye, sir.” Jones snapped to, saluted, and left at a run.
Misha sighed. Fighting the Ashkelon on Deriko for
six months had taught him a lot. He knew what was happening right now was too easy. There was a surprise out there somewhere. But unless Major Jones could find it, he had to continue with the plan as outlined by Tatiana.
Advancing toward the colony through the forest, his leading elements continued to meet light resistance until they reached the edge of the clearway that was Central Park. They assaulted out of the forest into the rear of Block Two, and captured that building with little effort.
But from there his light troops found themselves up against a determined, well-concealed force dug in around the shuttle parking area. Turgenev’s militia was using foxholes and trenches to protect themselves, and hiding behind the shuttles. Misha’s troops had nothing in front of them but a clear space. It was suicide to assault directly across that open space, and his troops knew it. His advance ground to a halt.
At 0230, holding position as he had been ordered, he heard firing start up from the other side of the colony, roughly two miles away from his leading elements.
Here she comes, thought Misha. I hope she knows what she’s doing.
Stalingrad System
In the end, Bagi made it back to the Dyson Ring just in time to make the final stand with the rest of the survivors. He had hardly gotten turned around and re-joined with the Reserve Wing when the enemy was upon them. As the Reserve Wing charged at the Stree, he boosted as hard as the damaged Blue Quark could manage, the ship shaking and vibrating in protest as his crew slammed the throttles home.
Even so, he fell behind, his damaged engines preventing him from maintaining formation. In a matter of minutes, the rest of the Goblin ships were a quarter-million miles ahead of him as they drove into the Stree formation. Bagi could only nurse his ship along behind, knowing he would arrive at the tail-end of this last battle.
Outnumbered by more than 2-to-1, the old, slow ships of the Reserve Wing were torn to pieces. Bagi could only wince as ship after ship of his formation disappeared from the holo. As he approached the battle at last, the count of Goblin ships on the holo fell steadily, first to 60, then to 50, then 40. As the Wing completed its pass through the Stree, Bagi was shocked to see only 32 combat-functional ships remained of the once-proud Goblin fleet.
Remnants: Broken Galaxy Book Five Page 25